


When Surviving a Storm

by queenaveline



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenaveline/pseuds/queenaveline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the times we get to see Cullen and Trevelyan together, and a few of the times we do not.</p><p>There are loves that burn hot in this world, that are blinding to the naked eye, fervent and fleeting, as joyous as they are destructive.<br/>Their love is not that kind.<br/>Theirs is the slow burning of a candle to its core, stolen glances and self-restraint, waiting and waiting and wanting. It is growth, it is a promise of a warm spring after a freezing winter, it is strength found, but not purpose.  It was what neither ever would have expected to find, and yet, here they are…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Key to Our Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I've posted! Please share any comments or feedback you have, and enjoy! :)

The girl did not look like a criminal, at least, not like any criminal _he_ had ever seen. As soon as Cullen had entered the dark, dungeon-like room, he had known that. When Cassandra had told him of their suspect, he had expected someone muscular and lean, with a clever face and the iron sense of dignity that a person who like to bend the rules carried about them.

What he walked in upon was just a girl. She seemed small, frail, lying in a heap on the ground, the elven apostate circling and looming around her. She was not particularly scary looking at all. A soft face, tasteful red hair, a lack of prominent battle scars. The only thing that seemed to be off at all was the green mark that crackled on her hand, illuminating the entire room in its sickly light.

Cullen would be liar if he did not admit that she was pretty, even despite her current condition. It was almost difficult to believe she had most likely blown up the Divine and everyone else at the Conclave…but the facts did speak for themselves.

She was their only survivor, and the only real suspect, and it would not be the first time he had met someone who not as they seemed.

And the fact she had a pretty face would not hinder the justice she would receive, should she be guilty.

Selfishly, he almost hoped she would wake up and confess to all of it, ranting as if mad, proclaiming her pride in the deed. At least then it would be simple. Then she could be tried, executed and the world could focus on other problems.

Rarely were things so neat.

“What do you think?” Cassandra asked.

“I think we’d better see what she says when she wakes up.”

~~~

Valerie was wholly unsure of how much time had passed. Had it been an hour? Two? Had three or four passed as she fought and talked and stumbled her way through the snow?

She had woken to the unpleasant sights of an angry Seeker, a glowing green hand, and the bonus giant hole in the sky. She had fought demons falling from that same hole (Had she ever fought demons before? She did not think she had), _then_ she had managed to close one of these “rifts” with  her new glowing, pulsing, and naggingly painful mark with the help of a bald elven apostate and a definitely not-bald dwarf.

And how did that work anyway? Valerie hoped she could manage to live long enough to find out.

Of course, she could not leave out the wonderfully-mannered High Chancellor, vaguely unsettling hooded woman and the lovely discussion they all had together, before somehow leaving the major decision making to a _prisoner_. Or maybe she wasn’t anymore?

Since no one else seemed to be choosing, she decided to help the soldiers (the bodies nearby suggested they needed it), and now she was off yet again.

Valerie Trevelyan was a smart woman, but that was a lot to take in during a span of…two? Three hours?

As most people would, she wondered for the millionth time if it was all a dream.

The searing pain of a wraith’s attacks hitting her squarely in the shoulder, however, reminded her it was not.

 _Not the time for thinking. Time for fighting._ Valerie targeted the wraith first in retribution. The unfamiliar, clunky staff which channeled a school of magic she knew very little of did not help her only subpar fighting skills, but in time the offending wraith had…died? Could spirits die?

_Not the time._

The elf—Solas—and the dwarf—Varric—fought alongside her, obviously a bit more comfortable with their weapons.  The woman—Cassandra—was right in the fray and besides _her_ was a man.

Valerie had not seen him before, she knew. Golden blonde hair, and a face that made her pause, again, in the middle of the battle, would be memorable. He and Cassandra fought well with each other, they had to have done it before.

The fighting ended not long after, and Cassandra was beckoning Valerie over to the rift. She hoped desperately that the thing was done spitting out demons, she was already breathless and her arms were aching rather terribly.  The blonde man, alternatively, looked absolutely fine, as if he had been sitting down reading a book and not fighting a horde of demons from the sky.  He was quite attractive, really, with a positively _delicious_ lip scar to boot.

_Not. The. Time. There’s a rift that needs closing, and if I wait too long that’ll be suspicious._

Somehow holding her hand up felt almost natural, but she could not say that the flaring of the mark, the energy unlike any magic she had ever used felt anywhere near so normal. Valerie wished, that before she started waving this thing around like a magic wand any more, that she could learn what it actually _did._

A crack in the air, then nothing, the fade snapping shut and the feeling of a storm, not before, but after, taking its place. Solas and Varric were beside her, saying something that she couldn’t quite hear over the buzzing in her head from the mark. When it stopped a few moments later, it was the man’s voice she heard, speaking to Cassandra.

“…to close the rift? Well done.”

“Do not congratulate me, Commander,” _Commander, huh? Commander of what?_ “This was the prisoners doing.”

 _So I_ am _still a prisoner._

He was looking at her now, and my, the closer he got the better he looked, she couldn’t help but observe. A few moments later, Valerie realized he was also talking to her, and Maker, she really needed to stop letting her thoughts drift.

“…we’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

“You’re not the only one hoping that.”  Seemed a safe response.

“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we? The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

“Then we’d best move quickly. Give us time, Commander.”

“Maker watch over you—for all our sakes.” Again, his gaze turned to hers, and again Valerie was swiftly reminded of the drastic task she had taken on. She gave herself no time to think, and turned on her way, the Commander jogging after his soldiers.

And even in the face of potential destruction, she couldn’t help but notice him stoop down to help a wounded man, and thank the Maker kindness still existed.

 ~~~

Again, she slept.

Not on the damp floor of a dungeon, her hands bound in irons this time, but on a comfortable, warm room somewhere on the other side of Haven. Cullen’s selfish hope had not occurred, as he predicted, but something rather unexpected did.

They were calling her the “Herald of Andraste” now. And why shouldn’t they? She had stopped the giant breach from spreading. She could close rifts and slay demons with a wave of her hand. Who had ever heard of just _one_ of those things being done?

It was almost a pleasant surprise. They were no closer to finding who caused the Breach, but at least they had someone who could end it, and that was better, he thought.

First, however, she would have to wake up.

Adan, the healer, was certain she would, and she grew stronger with every day. Cullen had been to see her only once, but it would be nearly impossible not to think of her more than that. There were so many questions, so many blanks to be filled in, about who she was and what her role would be.

He knew no more about her than what Cassandra had learned from her on their hike to the temple. Her name was Valerie Trevelyan. She was the youngest child of a noble family of Ostwick, and had lived at the circle from a young age, up until the mage uprising. She had been a moderate, working within a small league to promote reform by peaceful means. There ended up being quite a lot of fighting anyways. She and prominent members of her league had attended the Conclave to help promote their peaceful reform, using her noble name as leverage. And now Valerie was here.

It was no wonder that his thoughts, that everyone’s thoughts were on her.

The elf, when explaining to him what he believed the mark did, had mentioned she “held the key to our salvation.” An interesting phrase, and Cullen could not help but wonder at what it would mean in the days to come.


	2. What to Call You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two! Again, please leave feedback and enjoy!

With the dawn, it had been fifteen days since she arrived in the Hinterlands. Not that Valerie minded really, she wasn’t particularly eager to get back to Haven. After she had awoken, the Inquisition officially declared, and formal introductions and duties taken care of, the village had become quite dull. Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine and Cullen, her attractive blonde from the battle field, who conveniently happened to be a former Templar, all had their duties, and were busy attending to them.

Valerie had no such duties. She had the mark on her hand, sure, but Cassandra and Leliana hadn’t planned on needing such a person to start with. Her time in Haven consisted mostly of pacing, conversations that lasted no longer than five minutes, desperately trying to reorganize the Chantry library and no small amount of time in the tavern. So when the scouting reports from the Hinterlands arrived, she was off, eager to at least have even a menial task to do.

And now over two weeks had passed. Her single task had turned to thirty, and her several day trip into several weeks. Not that Valerie cared too much, out here she could accomplish something at least, keep herself busy, and if she needed to herd a few stray Druffalo along the way, well, it was better than banging her head against Haven’s walls.

She had lived in the Circle for twenty years. She had never considered much beyond its confines, had never thought to desire a life outside of it. She had her studies, her magic, her work. But now? With all she had experienced in the past three years, a cage of any sort was not an option.

Flipping the flap of the tent open, Valerie stepped out into the morning light, the scouts and soldiers already preparing for the day, the farmers of Redcliffe going about their routines in the distance. Snagging the end of a loaf of bread, she leaned against a table no one seemed to be using, planning out what they might do that day.

_I had best take care of those wolves Master Dennet’s wife mentioned sooner rather than later. And there’s another watchtower marker to place as well, but it seems quite out of the way. Perhaps I’ll be able to close a rift in that direction too? Or maybe—_

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by a polite scout, who saluted as he approached.

 “Ser. A message from Haven, from Commander Cullen.”

“Thank you.” She grabbed the folded letter, waiting for the soldier to salute and leave before she broke the seal with a thumb.

Commander Cullen was an interesting one. As a mage she supposed she ought to be more afraid of him, since he had been a templar, after all. Valerie, however, had never been particularly afraid of templars, as long as they weren’t actively trying to kill her. She had left them alone, and they had left her alone in return. There were certainly as many bad men in the Order as there were good, perhaps even more these days, but she knew too little of Cullen to truly judge which he was. He didn’t _seem_ the ruthless mage-hunting type, but Valerie’s attempts at conversation outside of war table discussions had been cut even shorter than with most, by a never ending stream of reports and scouts and problems.

At the very least, Cassandra had put a good deal of faith in him, and that was enough for her.

The letter was short, unsurprisingly, in a straightforward, plain, easy to read print.

_My Lady Trevelyan,_

_Leliana, Josephine and I thank you for your continued updates as to your activity in the Hinterlands. Your work there has been incredibly useful in gaining power and influence for the Inquisition in the region_ , _and it’s comforting to hear we won’t have to find another rift-closing hand anytime soon._

_However, yours and Cassandras return to Haven is requested as soon as possible. We have much to discuss with the both of you, as I’m sure you do with us._

_I assure you, the Hinterlands will be waiting for you when our business concludes, but for now, I must urge your presence here, so we can decide on future plans of action._

_Additionally, your reports could do with a bit more detail._

_Leliana, Joesphine and I eagerly await your arrival._

_Yours,_

_Ser Cullen Rutherford_

_Commander of the Inquisition_

Valerie folded the letter up, placing it in a pocket, and let out a sigh. She supposed she should had seen this coming, they couldn’t allow her to wander around Fereldan forever. She had tried to send letters conveying the nature of her activities, if nothing else to let the others know she was attempting to get something done, not fleeing. Perhaps she had not been clear enough.

It was no matter. If there was one thing she could look forward to, it was a warm bath and a soft bed. She had finished the book she had brought along a few days ago, as well, and was beginning to itch for another.

Yes, it was time to head back.

Varric sidled up beside her, hair still slightly mussed from sleep, but his eyes as awake as always.

“So, what’s the plan for today, Professor?” Valerie smirked at the nickname, duly given when he had walked in on her frustrated reorganizing of the library.

“I’m in the mood for some wolf-killing. And then…well, tomorrow I guess we’d best head back to Haven. What do you think?”

“And here I’d we’d _never_ leave.”

 ~~~

Halfway to the Chantry doors, and Cullen could already hear the yelling.

It had been mere seconds ago when a frightened scout nearly ran him over, frantically yelling about mages and templars and an ever worsening fight. The girl was scared, but had not over exaggerated, and while Cullen could not make out single words of the argument, the tone was enough.

“Lies! Your kind let her die!”

“Shut your mouth, mage!” The templar had made to grab his sword, but Cullen interjected himself between the two men before he was able.

“Enough!” He shouted with the kind of sharp tone that could make even the most rebellious of Kirkwall’s criminals stop for just a moment.  He liked to think he had perfected it during his time there.

“Knight-Captain!” The templar addressed him, as Cullen pushed him to the side.  Internally, Cullen winced at the title. Could this man not see how he had distanced himself from the order, from that title? Could he not see that now that he was a part of the Inquisition, he ought to do the same?

“That is not my title. We are _not_ templars any longer. We are _all_ part of the Inquisition.” Naturally, seconds after he spoke, trying to ease tempers and get things back to normal, the Chancellor had to show up with his two cents in tow.

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

“Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?”

_I should have assumed a simple fight would become something more. Nothing’s ever_ simple _is it? To think perhaps I could have a day without stuck up High Chancellors and their more stuck up opinions._

“I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its ‘Herald’ will restore order as you’ve promised.

“Of course you are.” He set his gaze back on the still gathered templars and mages, setting his glare on them.

“Back to your duties, all of you!”

The crowd dispersed quickly, with nothing left to see and the Commander’s rage at stake. This left Cullen, much to his dismay, with Chancellor Roderick for the foreseeable future. He did not anticipate the rather timely arrival of the Herald, making her way up the slope to the Chantry, obviously just back from the Hinterlands. He had not expected her for at least another two days.

 She looked much different from when he had seen her last, more…healthy, almost. Her hair was a greasy wreck, her clothes bloodstained and her movements weary, but there was a light in her eyes he had not seen when they had first met.  Cullen had a feeling that her excursions would become commonplace.

He would really need to teach her to write a decent report.

The Herald— _or do I refer to her as Valerie? Lady Trevelyan?—_ casually grinned at him.

“Mages and templars were already at war. Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.” He stated simply, curious to gauge her and Roderick’s reaction.  Roderick’s, of course, came first.

“Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order.”

“Who, you? Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

“The rebel Inquisition and its so-called ‘Herald of Andraste?’ I think not.”

“I don’t know,” She interjected, a sideways smile tugging on her lips. “The Inquisition seems about as functional as any young family.” It would have been enough to make Cullen himself chuckle, if Roderick’s response hadn’t been as fast as it was ignorant.

“How many families are on the verge of splitting into open warfare with themselves?”

_Plenty. Just ask the Empress of Orlais._

“Yes, because that would never happen to the Chantry,” He answered instead.

“Centuries of tradition will guide us. We are not the upstart, eager to turn over every apple cart.”

“Remind me why you’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?” The Herald asked.

“Clearly your _templar_ knows where to draw the line.” Cullen prickled at the inflection, but did his best not to let it show, turning his gaze back on the Herald.

“He’s toothless. There’s no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth. The Chancellor’s a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.” He pointed out. The Herald simply nodded, and it was hard not to notice, even annoyed as he was, how lovely those green eyes were when they reflected the sun.

“Well, let’s hope we find solutions, and not a cathedral full of Chancellors.” Her mouth was doing that same sideways smirk, and Cullen found it was easy to reflect.

“The stuff of nightmares.”

“Mock if you will,” Roderick continued. “I’m certain the Maker is less amused.”

The Herald shrugged, and even rolled her eyes, strolling into the Chantry with the sun at her back.

 ~~~

Valerie had wandered again. The war table meeting had gone from her arrival, through dinner (which all of them were served, but only her and Cassandra seemed to eat), and until only slivers of light remained in the sky.

She had suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to be alone, and so had made haste out of the meeting, through Haven’s gates and to the tiny dock over a frozen lake. She had discovered it during her initial exploration of Haven, and prayed no one would want to wander far enough out in the cold to find her. Valerie sat there now, one leg swinging over the side, her back resting on a support. Her staff lay forgotten on the dock, as she took a moment for herself to just…sit.

Since the rebellion, it seemed like she was never able to do this, to just sit alone with her thoughts. Even in the Circle, with everyone practically living on top of one another, she had carved out time to herself. In fact, most of the time, it couldn’t even be called an escape. She didn’t exactly have tons of _friends_ back in Ostwick, and the ones she did were eager to be alone as well. It wasn’t something that bothered Valerie either, she would have her studies, as would they, and they could still be together any time, day or night, that they wanted.

When the Circles collapsed, however, being alone was akin to a death sentence. Her studies had been forgotten. She stayed in groups.

And now—well, things weren’t particularly _safe_ , but with the Inquisition’s army a two-minute walk away, and her fighting skills greatly improved from what they were, she wasn’t all too concerned.

The sun’s light had finally disappeared altogether, the stars and moon replacing it with their dim blue light.

_I don’t remember looking at the stars much before. Radley always went on and on about them, but I don’t think I ever looked enough to understand. I should learn more about that astrarium thing I found—_

The dock groaned behind her, and she turned her head, thoughts interrupted, to see who might be there.

The last person she had expected was the Commander.  Cassandra, even Leliana, yes, but not him. He was so _quiet_ too, how he managed to sneak up on her in that armor was a miracle. He didn’t look his usual confident self as well. He seemed _uncomfortable._ Perhaps he felt awkward disturbing her solitary moment.

“Hello.” Valerie said, hoping to break some of the tension.

He cleared his throat, rubbing his neck nervously. For the life of her, she could not pinpoint why.

“Herald—I,” His hands came down to rest on the pommel of his sword, and he visibly straightened back into the proud, self-assured commander. “Cassandra has been looking for you. She had a question about your trip tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes, more questions. And where is she, exactly?” Valerie questioned, not unkindly, or even teasing, merely curious as to why he stood before her and not the Seeker.

“Oh, well, I—she mentioned she was looking for you, and I was on a walk and noticed you here. She’s most likely in her room.”

“Thank you, I’ll go and speak with her,” Valerie stood, wiping the dirt from her pants. “Do you take walks often, Commander?”

Again, the Commander— _or do I call him Cullen? Ser Cullen? Do I even remember his last name?—_ looked visibly flustered, and she could have sworn he was blushing, but the dark lighting could be to blame.

“Uh, sometimes, I suppose. Not as often as I’d like, but…”

“I understand. Every time I’ve ever seen you, you’ve been working, you deserve a five minute walk whenever you’d like.” She smiled then, for the compliment was an honest one. She wondered how he could keep up with it all.

Leaning down, Valerie picked up her staff, swinging it onto her back casually, but keeping an eye on the Commander, watching for his reaction. His eyes followed her hands, watching, but other than that he did not visibly react. She was unsure what to do with this information, but considered it important to have.

“Well, I’ll let you get to it then, I don’t want to interrupt your one minute of free time. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, Herald. I will--”

“Do you believe it?”

“Believe what?” He asked, bewildered.

“What they say. That I’m Andraste’s sacred Herald, sent down to do her work.”  She was unsure what exactly had prompted her to ask at this moment.  The Commander seemed an honest, trustworthy, _good_ man, and if she were to get a straight opinion out of anyone, it would likely be him.  It was difficult being a holy figure while staying simultaneously unsure of that role, and Andraste hadn’t exactly been whispering in her ear.

“I think you could be. We still know so little about everything that’s happened, it’s hard to say anything for certain. But I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Valerie nodded and passed him, heading back to land. Before she had reached the end of the dock, though, she turned around one last time.

“Another question, if you’ll allow it. What should I call you?” This got a smile out of that solemn face, even wider than the one she had gotten from making fun of the Chancellor. Any trace of prior awkwardness was gone.

“Cullen is perfectly fine, my lady. ‘Commander’ in front of the troops though, can’t have them getting _too_ insubordinate.”

_I had a feeling there was a real person in there somewhere._

“And what do I call you?” He continued, his grin turning to the kind of smirk that did absolutely wonderful things to that little lip scar, even from here.

“Valerie is just fine. ‘My Lady’ in front of the nobles though, can’t have them gossiping _too_ much.” Cullen chuckled again, and Valerie then and there decided to make it a personal goal to hear that laugh more often. In the short time she had known him, he had been much too serious.

“I can do that.  Goodnight, Valerie.”

“To you as well, Cullen.”


	3. Trouble

Cullen was surprised at the relief he felt upon hearing the Herald—Valerie—would be staying in Haven for a week or two while reports for the Storm Coast came in. Not only would it be valuable to him as an advisor, but it would be good for the scouts and soldiers of the Inquisition to see her about as well. She had been off in Val Royaeux for nearly a month, between travel time and recruiting a crazy elf and impressive court enchanter. Even she had agreed, perhaps it might be easier to stay for just a bit.

That was to say nothing of the personal satisfaction he felt.

It was a nagging feeling he was left with, really, after their last non-work related conversation. The war council meeting beforehand had been grueling, and the lyrium withdraw headache had built up through the whole thing until he had felt ready to explode.  Luckily, Valerie seemed to feel the same, and had lit out of the meeting before Cassandra could stop her.

It had been his _duty_ , he thought, to do his friend this favor and alert the Herald that she was needed. And yet, when he had seen her, he had not strode forward with the well-earned confidence of the commander. He had stopped in his tracks, all of a sudden feeling twelve years old and watching a freckled blonde braid herself a crown of dandelions, feeling eighteen and catching a black-haired beauty biting at her nails, feeling twenty-five and glimpsing a kind-faced brunette humming as she worked. Now, he was thirty and stumbling upon a redheaded mystery, feet dangling over the dock, eyes turned up at the stars in wonder.

The feeling had lasted but a second, and Cullen had yet to identify what it truly was before he was the Commander once more, but as he approached her, he could not overcome the notion his presence in this private moment was unwelcome. He had been a moment away from leaving, when those _eyes_ had turned towards his. She had been polite and kind, but her questions at the end were simply intriguing. He answered as best he could.

And Cullen supposed being on a first name basis couldn't be so bad for the two.

He decided finally the reason he was glad for her return was twofold. Not only was she a mystery, one he would like to find more about, but he respected her. She had done much with little, and had expanded the Inquisition’s influence far more than expected.

That was all. It was simple, really.

He reminded himself of that when he glanced towards her for the fifth time within the past few minutes. The Herald— _Valerie_ —was sitting across the tavern, alone, clearly very engrossed in a book, a mug of ale and some dinner sitting untouched on the table.

Opposite Cullen, Varric cleared his throat conspicuously.

“You know, one might get the impression you wish you were having a drink with _her_ and not the very entertaining dwarf in front of you.”

Cullen tore his eyes away, and reasserted himself firmly back in the moment.

“I—don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s merely strange to see her here, of all places. Not really the best place for reading.”

“I think many people could say it’s strange to see _you_ here.”

“It’s not as if I had much choice in the matter.”

“You need it, Curly, trust me. I haven’t seen you stop working since this whole Inquisition thing took off. And I was even _gone_ for most of it.”

Cullen sighed, and took a drink from his mostly untouched ale.

“I did have things to do, you realize.” He stated.

“I know,” Varric started with a grin. “Some needed shirking is good for the soul.” Cullen huffed indignantly, and unconsciously, without meaning to, felt his eyes drift back over to Valerie.

“Do you want me to invite her over here or something?” Varric asked.

“What? No, I don’t want to disturb her. I assure you, it’s nothing to concern yourself over, it’s merely that we’re not very familiar.”

“Well, let’s change that then.” Varric got up then, not giving Cullen any room to protest, and was at her table talking before Cullen knew it. At that moment, he wanted to look anywhere _but_ at her, and in under a minute Varric was taking his seat, with Valerie pulling up a chair, book stashed under her arm and a smile on her face.

“Hello Cullen. It is okay to call you that now, yes?”

“I suppose that’s just fine.”

“I thought you two had barely spoken.” Varric pointed out.

“We haven’t,” Valerie responded frankly. “We merely decided to do away with formalities. We’re all off duty here.”

“I don’t think Curly here knows the meaning of the word.”

“I don’t think I've been around enough to know.”

“Trust me, Professor, he works even more than you do.” Valerie chuckled, and Cullen couldn't keep from asking about the nickname.

“So he’s named you too.”

“Ah, yes,” Valerie sighed, though only in mock annoyance. “Varric has discovered my… love of learning. Also, my love of correcting others. Also, fixing libraries.”

That did not clear up the name for Cullen any, but the two were exchanging a glance that was likely a cousin to the one he often saw the dwarf and Hawke share back in Kirkwall. He was hesitant to press for more.

“Valerie, I think we ought to get you some more ale.” Varric said.

“Oh, no. I’ve already had some, and I don’t hold my alcohol all too well.”

“Well then we _definitely_ need to get you some more ale,” He stressed, and Valerie seemed to accept this without too much of a fight.  She shrugged at Cullen noncommittally, and he wasn't sure whether it was the heat in the room, or the light, but he could have sworn for a moment she was blushing.

For the first time in a long time, Cullen ordered another drink.

 ~~~

This time tomorrow Valerie would be gone, off to the Storm Coast to kill bandits, find Gray Wardens and hire mercenaries. For the next several months, she was not set to be back in Haven for more than a day or two at a time, while she expanded influence, traveled, and waited for the others to come up with a united opinion on the mage versus templar argument. She was tired of playing mediator.

Cassandra and Varric were to accompany her again, along with Vivienne, who had agreed to follow on the terms that she wouldn't be dragged to the Fallow Mire.  Valerie was spending her last evening making her way around Haven, chatting with those she knew amiably for several minutes at a time. She had made her way from the Chantry to the training grounds, where she had just wrapped up a conversation with Cassandra, who was, oddly, asking her questions about herself. Valerie was as forthcoming as she could be.

She didn't want to say she had saved Cullen for last, but it sure did feel that way. She figured that she ought to be more wary of the former Templar, ought to skirt around him as she saw other mages do. Valerie simply did not feel the need to, he was imposing, yes, but never threatening. She had considered he was just hiding a bad side behind all that honor and work, but after a few drinks he remained the same man, though perhaps a bit goofier.

Valerie had quite liked that.

The conversation had flowed rather easily, him jokingly teaching her how to write a less mysterious report, and she trying to find out where the nickname “Curly” came from, while Cullen attempted to silence Varric from telling.  She hadn't been surprised to find out it was the dwarf who had dragged him into the tavern.

Now, of course, he was surrounded by a flurry of scouts and soldiers practicing with one another, as he gave orders, signed reports and yelled at trainees.

“You there! There’s a shield in your hand, block with it. If this man were your enemy you’d be dead.” There was a hint of disgust so palpable it nearly made Valerie laugh.

“Lieutenant, don’t hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.”

“Yes, Commander.”

For a moment Valerie considered hanging back, since he seemed quite busy, but found her feet carrying her towards him anyways. Turning around now would be even worse.  He turned to her, all business.

“We’ve received a number of recruits—locals from Haven and some pilgrims…None made _quite_ the entrance you did.”

“At least I got everyone’s attention.” Valerie smirked. She was glad she had caught him, she decided. She had been with the Inquisition such a short amount of time, and while she had never been popular, she had forgotten how lonely it was to have no one to call a friend.

“That you did. I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself,” _So that’s how Varric knew him. I've been wondering that ever since they invited me over._ Valerie had not bothered to ask. “I was there during the mage uprising—I saw firsthand the devastation it caused.”

How was it that she was just now learning all this? One thirty second conversation, and she had already learned more about him than an hour spent drinking.

“Ser!” A scout caught up to him as the two began to walk through the ranks, surrounded by the clashing of swords, but Cullen not bothering to break his speech.

“Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the templars to join her cause.” As he talked he grabbed the clipboard the scout offered him, reading it and talking _and_ walking all at once. _How is he so busy? And how is he doing all of this simultaneously? Not to mention looking good doing it…_ Valerie scolded herself mentally for that last part, and formulated her response instead.

“The Conclave destroyed, a giant hole in the sky…things aren't looking good.”

“Which is why we’re needed,” Cullen began, looking up from his report, and handing it back to the scout with a nod. “The Chantry lost control of both templars and mages.  Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains.”  He was beginning to get into it now, one hand comfortably on his sword, the other gesturing as his eyes lit up, not with happiness but with a kind of vigor which explained how he could work so hard without burning out.

 _He believes in all this. In the Inquisition, in me_. It was almost charming to see him so enthusiastic.

“The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that. There’s so much we can—” Cullen interrupted himself, then, shaking his head.

“Forgive me. I doubt you came here for a lecture.”

“No, but if you have one prepared, I’d love to hear it.” Valerie felt her lips quirk sideways as she spoke, still amused. That got another one of those just _wonderful_ low chuckles of him, and while a few seconds ago she had found him appealing, now it was for an entirely different reason.

“Another time perhaps.”

Valerie did not trust herself to say anything more without making a fool of herself, so merely let the smile on her face grow into the area of a full on _grin_ in response. That may have been just as fatal an error, because now Cullen was smiling as well and it was like the sun on a cloudy day, all too rare, but bright and warming inside and out. And in this light, nearly sunset, she could see the hazel of his eyes so easily, and the golden shine of his hair, and the stubble on his jaw, and— _is this really appropriate right now? Or…well, ever?_

“I, ah...” He stuttered, which only _added_ to whatever emotion Valerie was currently experiencing, and made her chest twist in a way she had felt only a few times before and had never dared to follow up on, because stuttering meant that he was _nervous_. And if he was nervous that meant he might be feeling some fragment of what Valerie was too, and maybe— _No. That cannot be the case. The Commander is a very busy, very important, very handsome man. If he’s not taken, I doubt he would feel much for me. Plus, he is my associate, and…well that wouldn’t look too good._

“There’s still a lot of work ahead.” He finally finished, before promptly being approached by yet another scout.

“Commander! Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines.” Cullen walked, no, _sauntered_ , over to the scout, another smirk on his lips.

“As I was saying…”

Valerie was all but stuck to the spot now.  He had flipped back and forth between enthusiastic and charming to suave and confident all within a minute, and, Maker, what was a girl to do? She felt her cheeks burning, and hoped she could attribute it to the cold, before she unstuck herself from the spot and hurried to find some mundane task she could do to prepare. Something, _anything,_ to keep her mind off of that smirk and that chuckle and those eyes— _Andraste preserve me, I’m in trouble._

_~~~_

Leliana and Josephine had joined him on Haven’s steps. Dawn had just broken, a gray light filtering through the heavy clouds. It would be a cold day, that Cullen could know for sure.

Below, the Herald and her party readied themselves for the journey, adjusting saddlebags, checking things over once more and chatting. Cassandra, Varric and Vivienne stood besides her, along with the Inquisition soldiers he had sent to bolster their position on the coast.

And if Cullen had included a few more men than may have been absolutely necessary, just in case of trouble on the road, who would call him out on it?  He had no doubt of Valerie’s ability to protect herself, but she was very important. To the cause. And…other things. _She is very important to the cause. I enjoy her company. In a friendly manner. It’s unprofessional of me to expect anything more._

But it was so easy when he awoke at night, in a bed that still seemed unfamiliar, and covered in sweat, despite the cold, to let his mind wander. And often, for lack of a better thing to dwell on, it wandered to her.  At first it was merely questions. What did she look like when she was younger? What songs did she hum when no one was around? What were her favorite books? What sort of sweets did she like?

Then, Cullen found, he couldn’t help but imagine other things.

How would her hair smell when she tucked herself under his arm? How would those long legs look out of that armor? How would her voice sound when dropped down into a husky whisper? What would her skin, her _mouth_ taste like? How would if feel to have her lay on his shoulder, drawing lazy circles on his chest before he—

These thoughts were the hardest to break out of, and the most embarrassingly uncalled for. Cullen prayed that there was no blush to betray his thoughts, and returned his gaze to the real Valerie right in front of him, now mounted on her horse, impatiently waiting for the rest of her party.

Leliana and Josephine were whispering about something besides him. He did not bother to ask what in the world they could possibly be gossiping about, most likely they would both giggle and make a vague comment before going right back to talking.

Still, he struggled to put a name to this emotion. Or maybe it was less of a struggle, and more of a reluctance, a want to not call it what it was in the fear that it might make these feelings seem more real. It had been so, _so_ long since he had enjoyed someone’s presence as much as hers in as short a time, or so easily noticed one’s beauty. It had been even longer since he had sat in bed dreaming of a girl, making up situations that would never come to pass. He felt nearly childish. But it was so easy, and so relaxing, and it filled his chest with a tightness he knew wasn’t fear or worry, but something he couldn’t place. Or, again, something he didn’t _want_ to place.

Cullen figured he really ought to end whatever these…thoughts about the Herald were before they grew into something serious. If Leliana or Josephine, or Maker forbid, _Valerie,_ found out it would be messy for all of them. At best, he would likely be teased for the rest of his life, and at worst…

A good working relationship between himself and the Herald was paramount. If his unwelcomed feelings, whatever they really were, were to impede that, the consequences would be…irreparable.

The party was finally mounted. Within moments they would be off, and he wouldn’t see her again for at least a month. She maneuvered herself to the front of the group, always one to go first, eager to escape Haven, no doubt. At least he could rely on her reports to be actually informative now.

A call went up, and the group moved out, horses pressed into a fast trot, and Inquisition banners flapping in the wind.

_By the time she is back, this will no longer be an issue. I will get control of whatever this is now, it will be easier than doing it later._

The company had not moved far down the road when Valerie turned, likely laughing at something Varric had said besides her, a smile wide on her face, and red hair whipping in the wind. And in that brief moment, Cullen might have sworn that the Maker was testing his resolve. Her eyes caught his, so briefly he was unsure it even occurred, and every feeling he had just vowed to do away with came back in a rush, much stronger than before.

She had turned away before he even knew what was happening, and was out of sight moments after that. It was then he noticed that the sun had just peeked through the clouds, its rays already warming the brittle morning.

_Maker save me, this is going to be harder than I thought._


	4. Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little bit, sorry, life got a tad crazy! Obligatory training scene somewhere in this as well ;)

“I can’t explain to you how grateful I am you didn’t drag me down to that Maker-forsaken bog.” Cassandra was in her usual spot, beating the ever living daylights out of a mangled practice dummy. After being away for so long, Valerie had stopped by to once again see what everyone had been up to in her absence.

The weeks were passing in a blur.

Waking up somewhere new, killing people and demons and all manner of monsters, scouting, running missions, closing rifts—it was all in a day’s work now. Every night Valerie had sunk into her tent, beside her companions, asleep before she could complain about the discomfort of the hard ground. Every morning she would wake, sore beyond all belief, and would get ready to do it all over again.

It was a change from the life she lived before, surely. In the Circle, everyone would get up early and solemnly go about their duties. Valerie would have some chore to do, but then she could spend her days in the library, or training with her fellow enchanters, or any number of scholarly tasks. 

When the rebellion hit, there had been little rest at all. Someone always had to be on guard, and those who weren’t were often too fearful to fall asleep at all.

For the thousandth time, Valerie wondered how so much could have changed in so little time.

Her venture to the Coast had been successful, even if a tad cold. And wet. She had gotten to see the shore again, which she had been silently excited over, plus a giant and dragon, _which could breathe lighting,_ fighting one another. She hadn’t been silent over that excitement, and had spoken of it for days after. How many people could claim to have seen something so amazing? Luckily, she wasn’t alone in her passion, as Iron Bull, her newest companion, seemed equally, if not _more_ excited. The pair had engaged in several long discussions about it on the way back to Haven.

She had back in the village barely two days, enough time to discuss strategy, fix equipment and find that the other advisors still bickered over the mages and templars. All that, and she was actually able to talk to Cullen about _himself_ for once. Where he was from, what his…eventful time in Kirkwall was like, how the start of the mage rebellion really was, how he and Varric knew each other…and of course, after asking about his time in the Ferelden Circle Tower, she immediately remembered the rumors of what had occurred there.  Terrible, nightmare-material rumors. Cullen had declined to speak of it politely, and Valerie had taken her leave not long after that, foot planted firmly in her mouth.

Luckily, the Fallow Mire, some missing soldiers and an uppity Avvar were waiting for her, leaving no time for any lingering awkwardness.

Or perhaps unluckily. The Mire was a stinking, miserable, and wet hole, with undead crawling out of every corner. She had managed to save the soldiers and light the beacons, thanks to Solas, but was all too happy to be on her merry way back to Haven. After, of course, picking up a stray Gray Warden in the Hinterlands to join the cause.

For the first time, she was thankful to be back. The village wasn’t half as bad as it had been when she arrived. It had felt so enclosed, so empty then, whereas now it was filled with the growing numbers of the Inquisition and had some _life_ to it. Plus, she was beginning to become acquainted with more and more people, and, to her surprise, may have been actually making _friends_ among some of them.

Cassandra was one such person, and Valerie had found she almost missed the Seeker’s brash attitude and annoyed sighs accompanying her during all hours of the day.

“It was my pleasure. Don’t worry, you get to follow me to whatever nightmare we face next.”

“Gladly. After sitting around hearing Cullen, Leliana and Josephine argue about mages and templars for the past two weeks, I definitely need to hit someone.”

“As long as it’s one of the bad guys,” Valerie grinned, and even Cassandra cracked a smile, leaning down on her blunted practice blade.  She opened her mouth to say something more, but was cut off by a booming voice coming from where the soldiers currently trained.

“Recruit, do you not believe this order applies to you?!” The clanking of dull metal ceased for a moment, as everyone turned to see what the source of commotion was. Quite obviously, the Commander had lost his cool, in a rare display, but Valerie could see nothing more over the tents.

“Well? Back to it, everyone!” He yelled again, and the uproar began again, but decidedly more hesitant than it had been before.

Cassandra chuckled besides her, one of the rare moments Valerie had heard the warrior full on _laugh._

“It’s good to see the Commander doing his job so well.”

“Well, I don’t think there could be a better person for the job.”

And then there was Cullen.

Oh, Cullen.

When Valerie had left, she had been besotted beyond all reasonable belief.  It was a _crush_ , merely, nothing more, she had discovered while sitting miserably in the rain.  And yes, he was a good man, an attractive man, a man she would like to know much better, but…time had cleared her head. He was a coworker. Valerie had barely any basis on which to support her feelings, and now that she had stepped back, it was almost embarrassing to think that she had allowed them to happen at all. Perhaps she had been alone too long.

_Fantasizing over your Commander…please. You’re a tad old for a bit of unrequited crushing. Plus, there are a million other more important matters at hand than getting in bed with someone._

At least she had dealt with it like an adult. She was confident there would be no further issues.

The man himself was just ahead of her, turning around the tents and catching Cassandra’s eye. Valerie found, that unlike before, her heart did not race when he came into sight. There was no blushing. She felt nothing more than perhaps a bit of pride she had been able to so thoroughly deal with her feelings.

“I see the training is going well, Commander.” She commented as he reached her and Cassandra, prompting a chuckle. _The Maker is testing me, but I shall prevail._

“Indeed it is. I apologize, I did not realize you had returned yet, Herald.”

“No need, I’ve been backing only an hour or two. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to catch up at the council meeting later.”

“Of course,” He nodded. “And how was the Mire?”

“Well, now you’re just being cruel. I’m sure you know.”

“I’m sorry to say I don’t, entirely. If it helps, the soldiers you helped are incredibly grateful. Their grandchildren will be hearing the story of your dashing rescue.”

“Me, dashing?” Valerie feigned, placing a hand to her chest. The smirk was back on his face, and where Valerie might have once fidgeted and awkwardly stumbled over her words, now she felt…not nothing, but nothing… _romantic_.  She repeated this thought over and over in her head.

When she looked to the side, Cassandra had veritably disappeared from sight, right under her nose. Cullen seemed to notice, but made no remark. _How odd, she is the one that beckoned him over here._

“Well, at least your reports have improved quite a bit.” He said at last, beginning to walk back towards the ever training recruits, waving Valerie to come along with him.

“I’m glad to hear it, Cullen— _Commander_. Sorry.” He merely shook his head and chuckled again. Valerie clasped her hands behind her back, and laughed along with him. He did have quite an amazing laugh, really. It was so nice that she could coax that kind of chuckle from such a busy, serious man and—

“It’s quite alright, _Valerie._ We all do make mistakes.”

It was truly about to start all over again, wasn’t it? Valerie fought the urge to say something embarrassing, changed the topic, and walked on with him.

 ~

Things had been going so well. The Herald had accomplished everything Cullen and the other advisors could have imagined, and while there was no lack of day to day difficulties, the Inquisition was becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Cullen had always heard others stand in awe at his sheer will to work, and the question “Do you ever stop?” was one that had become increasingly familiar to his ears over time.  He supposed his mother would be proud, and his father even prouder, that their imaginative young boy had gotten his mind out of the clouds and into reading endless reports and training endless amounts of recruits. But once he had entered training all those years ago, there was truly no other way to be. 

There were boys who were naturals, who knew just what to say, how to hold themselves, how to be authoritative without being threatening, who could make Chantry sisters blush and Templar drill sergeants chuckle.  Cullen had not been one of them.   He had been too excited, too eager to learn, and not always eager enough to listen.  And as others excelled and he remained stuck in place, something had clicked, and he realized that the only way to do well was to work harder than anyone else did and therefore, achieve results unlike what anyone else did. The philosophy had served him well from an ambition stand point, though it was easier said than done.  The years had not worn down his drive, nor his philosophy’s success, but Cullen just felt so… _old_ sometimes, it scared him half to death.  When his vision was swimming, his head killing, his back aching from bending over reports, and he became out of breath much more quickly than he once had, he couldn’t help feel like a man twenty years his senior.  Of course, one could pin these things on the lyrium, or lack of it, or that he just wasn’t as in shape as he used to be…but mostly he just felt _tired_.

Valerie on the other hand seemed to be an endless supply of, if not energy, the need to be productive.  Her reports were filled with tales that seemed not only impossible for such a small group of people, but a number of them that would be impossible for an entire detail of men to accomplish in the time she did.  And she spared every attention to detail as well, exploring every last foot of land, collecting every resource she could get her hands on, looting everyone they killed and taking time to talk to every solitary person she ran into on the road. In her orders she was always precise, exact, to a point that was nearly overbearing.  And even at Haven, when she could be found at all, she would most likely be reading, but he had seen her chatting with other members of the Inquisition before, too.

Perhaps that was why Cullen respected her so much, he had met someone with a resolve to work just as much as he did.  The difference was, she never seemed to tire, or even _notice_ how beneficial her work was, or at least was incredibly good at hiding it. 

And as for his youthful infatuation with her...

He glanced over at her form leaning over the war table, eyes studying the map as she listened to the gritty details of some operation Leliana had performed.  And when he said gritty details, he meant the incredibly boring specifics that even _he_ couldn’t bear to listen to for too long.  And yet, Valerie stood there, not bored or drifting off, but attentively figuring out…something, he was sure.

Alternatively, he wasn’t quite sure what he felt anymore.  She had been gone for nearly three months straight, and while he had her reports to keep him updated, it wasn’t anything like speaking to her or seeing her in flesh (though, admittedly, he had begun to enjoy reading them perhaps a bit more than most, even if they did get a tad long at times).  He simply hadn’t really had the time to think about it much, he supposed, which _was_ what Cullen had wanted to happen after all. Now there would be no issues, no tension, and no drama to deal with later.

Then why did he feel so disappointed at the prospect of their being nothing more than coworkers?

It wasn’t something he could articulate in any other manner, but the thought of looking forward to nothing but polite chats about his Templar duties (which he was nearly dead certain he was boring her with, even with curiosity lighting up her face. Plus there, was the whole deal with his vows regarding celibacy and what was _that_ all about…) and reading her reports and maintaining a distanced working relationship made his stomach drop. 

Cullen sighed, shaking his head, hoping to force the thoughts out of his head, and prepare himself for the round of mage versus Templar arguments that were no doubt already brewing.

“Cullen, are you alright?” Josephine’s voice lifted him out of his thoughts, and he became aware that Leliana had stopped talking, and that the gazes of all four women had turned on him.  He cleared his throat before speaking, trying to avoid anyone’s gaze for too long.

“Ah, yes, I apologize.  Please, don’t stop for my sake.”

Valerie’s eyebrows drew in slightly, but she didn’t say a word, but it was Cassandra’s look that made him worried. Not that the Seeker looked visibly concerned, at least not to most people, but Cullen could detect something he wasn’t sure he liked.

“Are you certain?” She asked him, Cullen nodded, and the topic was dropped.  Josephine began to launch into a brief of her most recent meeting with a detail of Orlesian nobles, and the attention was turned back to its rightful place. 

Valerie spared only a glance towards him, something like tentative concern on her face, before she turned her full attention back on their ambassador. 

_And now you’ve worried her. Excellent job._

He did not regret his decision to not inform the Herald of his decision to not take lyrium, and did not imagine he would tell her anytime soon. Cassandra and Cullen had history, and he was not sure he trusted anyone as much as he trusted her.  She would be honest with him, even if the truth was brutal.  If the Herald knew, only problems could result, and that was exactly the opposite of what the Inquisition needed at present.

_Look at her. Disappointed your relationship will never go beyond something professional? You’re lucky to be here at all, and to expect anything more of her…_

Valerie was intelligent beyond all doubt, a competent fighter, confident, funny at times, perhaps a bit controlling and occasionally a touch awkward, and arguably the most beautiful woman Cullen had ever seen. Not to mention, she was a damn legend.  Recruits did not flock to Haven every day for Cullen, nor did stories of his exploits travel across the land. No, it was her, and she very well deserved it.

There was no chance to be had for him.  He repeated that to himself every time she glanced over, green eyes nailing him to the spot, and hoped that maybe this time the words would take hold.

~

The thuds of her strikes against the dummy echoed across the sleeping training area.

_Step left, around, strike down, around, swivel, strike up, right, left, right…_ Valerie stands with staff in hand, as she violently attacks a dummy just a few hits away from falling apart. The urge to train, to hit something, wasn’t something she felt often, but after the last round of arguments, she could use something to hit.

_Always be quick, out of reach. Spin right, reach around, strike down, bring your knee up and your elbow across._

It’s not as if training had ever hurt anyone either.  At the Circle Valerie had been only a mediocre fighter. She had passed her Harrowing with flying colors, and knew the basics, but there was no real _reason_ for her to train extensively.  Experiments and books and theory had interested her more then. She supposed they still did. It had been a long time since she had experimented with any sort of magic. Perhaps, with the Inquisition’s resources, she could again. If she ever had time, that is.

Once the tower had declared itself free, and Valerie ran away with Winnie and Everett and joined the Mage’s Accord, it was then that Valerie had learned to _really_ fight. She was never the best, not by far, but now, with all the fighting she did for the Inquisition…she wondered if she could even beat Marlene.

_Probably not. She’d wipe the floor with me_.

It was sad, she thought, that she didn’t think of them more. Didn’t…mourn them as she ought to have, or even bothered attempting to locate what remained of their scattered order.  She had resources now. She could _do_ something, take the survivors of the organization and pull them under the Inquisition’s wing, if anything still existed of the Accord at all.

_Then why don’t I? What’s wrong with me?_

_Left, right, around, spin out, the other direction now…_

Valerie’s hair was starting to stick to her face, sweat cold against her neck with the morning chill. Her breath came heavier than usual, and her arms were starting to ache as she swung her staff around to hit the dummy firmly in the side.  She could feel the electricity jumping at her finger tips, stronger and stronger as she worked herself up, just _begging_ to be used.

_No magic._

_Just like Marlene._

Marlene’s magic had come late, not until she was thirteen and sent to the Hasmal circle.  She had been training in the use of daggers before then, and had never given them up while at the circle. A mage and a rogue was a deadly fighter—but the real genius was her combination of the two disciplines. She was the most physical warrior Valerie had ever seen. Using a staff and magic she ran _into_ the action, not away from it, dancing around her enemies, hitting them with spells and her staff itself in a blur of movement.  Valerie had never seen anything like it. Neither, she supposed had anyone else.

And Marlene had taught her too. Only a bit, how to circle around a man, the patterns of movement one could use to really give someone a good whack with her staff.  And then, eventually, using magic in conjunction with those skills.

Where could she be now? She had not been at the Conclave, not with Winnie and Leo and Alexander and her…but…Valerie had heard nothing from her yet.

_I should find her. I should find all of them. I should feel…grief, distress at the loss of my people—more than I do, I was no leader, they were…_

Her strikes became faster, a steady rhythm of triplets, one after another, the woosh of her staff over her head, the pivoting of her foot on gravel, and her hair, sticking to her face…

_It used to be long.  They used to be my friends. And they’re nowhere to be see—all because of—_

Valerie might have heard herself yell, but it was drowned out by the booming and bouncing crackling of lightning. The dummy flew across the yard, blacked, finally teetering onto its side in defeat. The air smelled strongly of ozone.

She leaned onto her staff, breathing heavily, frustrated at her destruction, and more frustrated that she would have to explain it to somebody.

_I said I wouldn’t use magic. I said a lot of things._

“At the rate Cassandra and you go through these things, our recruits will have to start hacking at each other pretty soon.”

Somehow, Valerie was not even startled. _Of course_ , Cullen would show up now.  She turned to face him, his face alight in an amused grin that would have made Valerie smile too, if she hadn’t been in such a foul mood. It did help a little though…his smile was so _adorable,_ even if his face was a tad pale.

_What am I doing?_

“Commander. I, uh…sorry.” Valerie was in no place to offer a witty retort, and stared down at his feet as he approached.

“It’s really not a problem,” He chuckled, stopping a friendly distance away from her, hand on his sword. “I must admit I watched for a bit, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mage fight quite like that.”

“Ah, well, don’t give me any credit. Compared to my teacher, I’m as bad as some as our newest conscripts.”

“I doubt it. I’ve had to do a lot of yelling to get them where they are now.”

A smile tugged at the edges of Valerie’s lips at that.

“I’m sure you have. Did you come down to train as well, Cullen?” She swallowed and felt like she might have been a bit too casual in using his name, even though he _had_ told her to use it. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes, actually. My duties have kept me away from any real training for far too long.”   Cullen casually strode over to the barrel of blunted practice swords, picking one up and weighing it in his hand for a moment. Valerie watched him, her mouth going slightly dry before she spoke.

“Ah, well, that’s good to hear. I’ve probably only picked up a sword a handful of times, but I don’t mean to intrude, so I guess I’ll be going, let me know if—”

“You’ve only held a sword a few times?” His face was incredulous, and Valerie figured in this day and age it was a slightly ridiculous thing. She nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground.

“I never had time to learn, I guess. I was sent to the circle very young.” She explained.  Cullen reached into the barrel to grab another sword.

“Well then, Valerie, it would be my honor to teach you, at least just the basics.”

_Oh, Maker, is this happening?_ Not that she would be able to refuse, not only would it be a legitimate skill to have, but spending more one on one time with the Commander...She had promised herself to try to stomp out her little crush, but, Andraste help her, he was grinning like a boy in his excitement, how could she ever say _no?_

“You’re sure you don’t mind yet another recruit?”

“Mind you, my lady Trevelyan? Never.”  Valerie felt her throat go dry yet again as she stumbled for an appropriate response, before simply nodding with a smile edging through her lips and setting her staff off to the side.

Cullen handed her the sword, and she held it in two hands, unsure quite how to position them.

“Maker, you really are new at this.  Here, first, use one hand.” Valerie dropped her left hand, the sword’s tip pointing towards the ground as she struggled to keep the weight of it. Cullen sidled up beside her. “Now, fix your grip. I know you’re strong enough, I’ve seen you swing around that staff. Unlock your elbow, yes, and position your fingers a little more—no, like,” He told her, as Valerie struggled to keep a coherent thought and follow his instructions since he was _right there_ behind her, and she swear she almost felt his breath on her neck…He reached out gently and laid a hand on hers, twisting her hand around and moving it lower on the hilt with a simple touch.

Valerie felt like her heart may have finally given out.  She could sense the smirk on his face out of the edge of her vision, smell what must have been his cologne as the feathers on his pauldron tickled her neck, and his hands, gloved, but goodness they were so…nice. Valerie turned her head ever so slightly, catching his eye out of the corner of her gaze, able to see the stubble on his chin so clearly, and the light freckles from sun on his nose, and that hazel glow of his eyes and _Maker_ , he was close enough to kiss.

The moment lasted a beat, before Cullen pulled his hand away, and regained a more professional distance. Valerie was nearly relieved; she wasn’t sure if she could physically stand to have him there another second before she…feinted or something.

_Andraste, please help your humble servant as she tries not to lose her mind while an absolutely gorgeous and amazing man stands over her._

“Much better,” Cullen finally said, stepping away, and moving across from her, sword raised. “Now first, we’ll learn some basic offensive and defensive moves. How to lung, parry, where to aim, how to read an opponent.”

“Do you give all your recruits such personal treatment, Commander?” She managed to joke, delighted at the laugh that resulted.

“I don’t know, my lady, what if I told you I didn’t?”

“Well, I’m sure you use that line on all the girls you teach basic defensive skills.”

Cullen chuckled again, shaking his head. Valerie took a deep breath she hoped he didn’t notice, raised her sword and then promptly acknowledged how well and truly screwed she was.

_Oh, yes, I am so completely over it. Not a romantic thought to be had_.

And she thought she had been in trouble _before_.

“First now, when you lunge, you want to make certain not to get off balance, above all else, if you lose your step for even a moment then…” Cullen continued to teach, and Valerie continued to pine, and both continued to lament over the future they were certain could never be.


End file.
